


Finding Up Is Harder Than It Looks

by nothing_rhymes_with_ianto



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: angst_bingo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto/pseuds/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's three steps forward, two steps back, and his shoulder aches almost as much as his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Up Is Harder Than It Looks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "recovery" square of angst_bingo.

The healing takes ages. Owen sits in hospital for days before Jack comes to see him. He spends that time thinking about the failure of his life and the failure of his death and the failure of his love and how he wishes he hadn’t been saved.

He watches the gashes in his shoulder scab over, feels his eye swell shut, black and teary. He wishes the hole he feels in his heart would scab over, that all the things he let out for Diane would swell over and shut everything away again.

He didn’t want saving. He remembers the wonderful stillness inside of that cage, the calm that fell over him when he realised that he had control over his fate and he had nothing to fear. He’s already hit rock bottom. There’s only one way he could go down any further. The pain in his shoulder flares, reminding him of the holes and wounds that have yet to heal.

Jack comes and goes. Ianto comes—with paperwork—and goes. The girls do not come. There is no one else. Diane is already gone. Owen sleeps a lot; it’s a good way to avoid life at the moment. He always seems to have a pounding headache when he wakes up.

A bag of grapes announces Jack’s arrival. Owen looks at them and feels angry and unimpressed and betrayed. Grapes? This man is meant to look after him and he gets grapes? This man is meant to be his leader and he gets a bag of disgusting fruit? He gets life? He gets everything he doesn’t want or need right now?

“You shouldn’t have. No, really, you shouldn’t. I hate grapes.”

“Doctors reckon you can go home.” Owen knows that Jack’s has bribed or threatened the doctors into letting him leave. Only a few days ago they were telling him they wanted to keep him there for some time to have him on suicide watch and to prevent self harm. Jack’s a liar, but Owen doesn’t really want help from doctors anyway.

“Doctors. What do they know, eh?” Jack doesn’t want to look at him, and the anger and despair swell again in Owen’s chest. He hates Jack’s disapproving gaze, as if _he_ was the one who was hurt, not Owen. He feels empty when he looks at Jack, too tired and hurting to give a damn what Jack thinks. “I didn’t want saving.”

For a moment, it seems that Jack is seriously considering what Owen wants. But when he looks up, his gaze is brazenly blank again, like he couldn’t care less. “You want us to apologize?”

“For a few seconds in that cage, I felt totally at peace. And then you blunder in.” Owen only wishes he could get that back. The gentle whisper of nothingness, finally, instead of too much screaming. Stillness and peace instead of this roiling black hurt in his guts, the scribble of loss and regret and pain in his mind. But he can’t have it, because of Jack.

Jack stares at him like he’s only just now realizing how deep all this goes, like he’s just now seeing the black hole inside of Owen that’s eating up everything he is. Like he’s only just realize how long that need for oblivion has been festering inside of Owen.

There are some things that can’t be seen, and some people can’t be saved. Owen wishes he was one of them. Wonders if maybe it would have been better. “Do you always know best, Jack?” He thinks it would have been better for the world and for him, if he’d just stayed in that cage. If he’d taken Mark’s place. “Is that what you believe?”

“I want you back at work tomorrow.”

Owen watches him leave. Jack never answers any questions. Owen feels like he’s been given an impossible order. The world outside is bleak and dark and hurts more than ever.

The nurses and doctors give him disapproving looks as he leaves the hospital, as if they know he’s going to go home and get wasted despite the painkillers they’ve given him. As if they know he might try again far too soon.

Gwen greets him with a wave, but she’s distant, and he doesn’t blame her. Anyway, he doesn’t want anything to do with her at the moment. Tosh kisses him on the cheek, and he only indulges her because he’s too fucking exhausted to snark. Jack stares down at him from the gantry. Ianto says nothing, but gives him his coffee perfectly made, and makes sure that he’s okay when he comes out of the weevil cells. As Owen leans heavily against the metal door, his breath shuddering and tight, Ianto stands behind him at a distance, nonintrusive, but Owen can feel his silent support and is grateful.

He spends most of his time not autopsying things asleep on the scratchy old sofa. His shoulder is nearly healed up completely, and the bruises around his eyes have faded to those only of lack of sleep. He’s nearly back to his old sarcastic self, and finally able to go out in the field again when the Rift takes Jack and Tosh and everything goes to hell.

The date is there, right there in front of him, and the equations, and he can’t help but think _what if she came back. What if I had her back with me. What if I wasn’t so lost._ And Jack, the Rift’s got Jack too. The two people he could manage to give a damn about at the moment have been taken from him by the Rift. So he makes his decision. He couldn’t give a damn about Ianto pointing a gun at him. If he dies getting Diane and Jack back, so be it. He could do with a little quiet right now.

When Jack fires him, all Owen can think of is _why didn’t he let me go before, then?_   There is literally nothing left for him but Torchwood, and now that’s gone too. He goes out to the bar because there’s no where else to go. His flat is too big and silent and full of hurt. His shoulder throbs horribly, newly created wound still stinging. He needs to be somewhere crowded and loud, somewhere he can feel alone. And then—

“Oh, jesus. Diane?” And all the pain from before comes rushing back in. He can’t catch a breath. She’s so close and he can’t—he can’t touch her. “Oh, jesus.”

“I’m lost, Owen.” But he can’t listen. Her voice is pleading but he’s reaching out a hand and closing his fingers around solid warmth and all he wants to do is pull her in close but he can’t because this can’t be real. This is real, isn’t it?

“I can touch you,” he gasps. He can barely get a word out through the tightness in his throat. “I don’t understand. Where did you end up?”

“Please. Bring me back Owen.” Her eyes are huge are terrified. She’s beautiful and he can’t stop looking at her. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Everything’s skewed and he has no idea which way is up anymore. Everything that he had been rebuilding has fallen again and _oh god_ he has no idea what to do. “I dunno. Everything’s out of synch.”

“Please.” And he wants to look away. He wants to see if anyone else can see her, wants to look away to think about it, but he can’t because what if she disappears? He can’t have that happen again. “Please bring me back. Open the Rift.”

Everything she’s saying, all the events from the past few days, her voice, the warmth of her, it’s too much. He can feel a panic attack coming on, can feel sobs welling up in his throat and everything is so wrong. But she’s here and she’s warm and alive and her voice is beautiful in his ears and her face and—and she’s gone. He blinks rapidly, trying to slow the insane static welling up in his brain. He tries to breathe, to ground himself, to do something to stop from falling apart, but he can’t. By the time he storms out of the bar, he’s shaking all over.

It’s all too much. It’s too much and Jack is pushing and pushing and Owen can’t take it. He’s sick of the hurt, sick of the half-assed care that Jack is shoving onto all of them, sick of people underestimating him or just not giving a shit and he can’t do it anymore.

But when the shots ring out, he snaps back into himself and oh god what has he done? He’s killed Jack and now there really is nothing left but to open the Rift. But Owen can’t care anymore. He can’t. She wanted to leave. She ran away and she wasn’t ever going to come back, even if she did get lost. He’s not going to find her. Everything points to opening the Rift and they need his identification to start the command. He lets them scan him because it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s empty and done, full of throbbing pain and a dull weariness. And the others have a chance of getting something back, anything. But he knows he’s already lost her.


End file.
